


Loophole

by MechBull



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 08:06:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7426840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MechBull/pseuds/MechBull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten years ago, FitzSimmons made a verbal agreement. Now they have to honor it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loophole

**Author's Note:**

> There's one part of this that flirts with a slightly more mature rating, but is not explicit.
> 
> Note that there are two "alternative" endings here because I couldn't decide which way to take this! They are labeled 2a and 2b.

1.

“Well, I, for one,” Fitz observed, grinding his chin into Simmons’ shoulder with the movement as he spoke, “think it’s for the best.”

“It is,” Simmons agreed, softly at first, then stronger. “Yes, of course it is, it’s just…”

“Just what?” Fitz shook his head stubbornly. “There is no _just_. I don’t understand why you dated him in the first place.”

“Because he…”

Fitz fought a grin as Simmons trailed off, clearly unable to come up with a single selling point for her latest ex. She twisted around in his arms to look at him, then scolded him with a smack before facing forward again and leaning back into his embrace. The laptop at the foot of the bed and the random romcom it was playing sat forgotten.

“He wasn’t that bad,” she argued.

Fitz snorted. “A ringing endorsement, Simmons. And yes, he was. I knew that as soon as I met him. _‘Hi, I’m Milton.’_ ”

“Oh, Fitz. That’s not how he sounds.”

“It’s exactly how he sounds, and I don’t know why you’re claiming otherwise. If you love the guy so much, why did you break up with him?”

Fitz tried not to notice the way his whole body went on edge at the suggestion that Jemma wasn’t as truly over freaking Milton as she maybe should have been. It was just that…it was just that whenever Simmons was seeing someone, their productivity in the lab went down. (No, not really. Jemma would never let anything get in the way of their work. But Fitz was going to tell himself that was the problem, because any alternative explanations were just too dangerous think about.) 

Simmons sighed. “I feel like a failure.”

Fitz spluttered. “Because of _Milton_?”

“No! Because…because I’ve never had a successful relationship. Everything I’ve accomplished in my life, and I can’t find a decent boyfriend. And I know that sounds – unfeminist or whatever, because I have accomplished so much – ”

“Um, _yeah_. Also, y’know, you’re _nineteen_ years old, so I don’t really think that – ”

“But I want that,” she continued, ignoring him. “I want someone to share my life with.”

Fitz remained silent for a beat. “You have me,” he reminded her softly. “You’ll always have me.”

She reached up and behind herself, blindly patting his cheek. Fitz smiled at the contact. 

“I know, Fitz.” 

Some strange part of him wanted to kiss her right then but – they were more than that. They would be lab mates and best friends forever and nothing would ever change that. Why would he risk that for – Fitz shook his head. He wouldn’t.

But for perhaps the first time, he admitted to himself that he _wanted_ to. He swallowed thickly, then forced himself to go for the joke.

“The only thing you’re a failure at is picking boyfriends, Simmons. You should really listen to me before you agree to dates in the future.”

There was silence, and Fitz felt vaguely worried, like she’d be offended or realize what he _wasn’t_ saying. Finally, she just asked, in a strange, breathless sort of tone, “Who would you pick for me? Who do you think I should date?”

Fitz struggled for any response that wasn’t _Me, Simmons, for God’s sake_. Eventually, he just shrugged. 

“No one’s good enough for you.”

The statement came out about equal parts petulance and adoration, and Fitz cringed. He couldn’t even meet her eyes when she turned to look at him again. 

“I hope not,” she replied, giving him a small little grin he couldn’t really understand. “I don’t want to be single forever.”

Fitz inhaled unsteadily, feeling selfish as he realized he’d be entirely happy if Simmons never found anyone. At least he wouldn’t have to share her. 

“Fitz,” she continued leadingly. “Will you make a deal with me?”

The request was so incongruous with the rest of their conversation that he completely forgot his awkwardness and made eye contact.

“Huh?”

“Will you agree that – if we’re both single by, I don’t know 30 – we’ll…marry each other?”

By the end of the question, Simmons’ voice had become so high-pitched, he could barely hear it. And he could only guess that he had imagined it anyway, because there was no way she’d ever want him, even if it was only as a backup alternative to spinsterhood. But she kept looking at him, waiting for an answer and looking more and more flustered the longer he stared slack-jawed at her.

“Never mind,” she said quickly, facing forward again but not quite relaxing back into him as she had been.

“Isn’t – ” Fitz began, stopping to clear his throat when he heard how nervous he sounded. “Isn’t that something people only do in the movies?”

“Just – stupid suggestion, never mind,” Simmons repeated. 

“No, I – I – I’m not saying – I just – OK.”

Simmons whirled to face him, eyes wide. “OK?”

“Yeah, just – 30? That seems so…you really think we’ll both still be single in 11 years?”

“Hmm,” Jemma mused, her mouth twitching slightly as if she was repressing a smile. “True. Don’t want to risk – I mean, wait that long.”

 _Risk? Risk_ what?

“Right, ‘cause, um…”

“I’d want to be married at least a year before kids, after all,” Jemma continued, barely even focusing on him as she started planning out the rest of their lives together. Fitz was incapable of human speech by that point, brain staging a revolution at the thought of having kids with Simmons. Or more specifically, doing the act that created kids.

She probably meant – she wouldn’t really want to do that the natural way, obviously. She just wanted a marriage of – of convenience or companionship or something. Just because she’d begrudgingly marry him didn’t mean she actually was willing to – to – to touch him.

Fitz would settle for that and gladly, to be honest. And at that realization, he finally managed an odd guttural sound in response.

“So…29 then? A decade is a much nicer round number anyway.”

All Fitz could do was nod, hoping it didn’t seem too eager and wondering if he’d be able to wait that long – and if he’d be able to sabotage every single one of Simmons’ relationships between now and then without making her suspicious. 

2a.

Jemma chuckled deep in her throat as she watched Fitz struggle to recover. She would never claim to be an expert at fellatio, but she had more than passable skills that Fitz certainly seemed to appreciate. Eventually he opened his eyes and stared up at her, love and pleasure and gratitude shining on his face. 

“That was…” he began, trailing off speechlessly.

She crawled back up the bed, slinking a bit and arching her back for effect, although he was still so dazed, it probably didn’t accomplish much. Stretching out alongside him, Jemma sighed as she settled. His arm came around her shoulders, prompting a tiny smile to appear on her face. 

“Gimme a second,” Fitz requested. “And then I’ll – ”

“Don’t be ridiculous. That was your birthday present. I don’t need any quid pro quo.”

“You don’t want me to?”

“You don’t have to.” Jemma confirmed. They were both smart enough to read between the lines, though.

“But Jemma,” Fitz protested, a laugh lacing the edges of his tone. “It’s my birthday. Shouldn’t I get to choose what we do?”

“Only if the same goes in 23 days.”

“You won’t have to beg me to let you suck me off, trust me.”

Jemma shook her head. “That’s not what I’d choose,” she informed him, letting her tone go sly.

Fitz hummed, turning to face her and wrapping her fully in a hug. He brushed his nose against hers. “What would you choose?”

“To break up with you.”

It was abrupt and matter of fact and it took all of Jemma’s control not to break into laughter. Especially when Fitz reacted, pulling away from her embrace, staring at her in open-mouthed, wide-eyed disbelieving, confused hurt, and turning rather pale.

“Wha – Jemma, what?”

“Yes,” Jemma explained casually, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “I’m in a bit of a pickle, you see. Ten years ago, we promised to marry each other if we were both still single by 29.”

Fitz exhaled sharply. The switch from panic to relief was visible. He began to smile as he realized what she was saying.

“Only problem is,” Jemma continued, “we’re not single so we can’t get married. Catch 22. But I figured out a loophole.”

“Breaking up with me,” he filled in the blanks, his tone deadpan.

“Yes!” She grinned rather smugly. “It’s brilliant, don’t you see? The groom’s not supposed to see the bride on the wedding day _anyway_. So, I’ll just break up with you the night before, and marry you on my 29th birthday.”

“And I have no say in this?”

Jemma narrowed her eyes. Judging by the way he reached out and pulled her closer to him again, she knew he was only joking. But still.

“Of course not. You promised.”

Fitz heaved a long-suffering sigh. “I guess I’ll have to honor my word then. On one condition. Two. Two conditions.”

“I’ll consider them,” Jemma replied magnanimously. 

Fitz stared directly into her eyes. “You don’t break up with me a minute before 11:59 PM.”

“Deal. And?”

“You let me go down on you now.”

His grin was wolfish, and Jemma rolled her eyes. “If I _must_.”

She couldn’t keep the act up for long, though, responding with a very loud moan as soon as his mouth made contact with her. They wore themselves out celebrating his birthday long into the night. When she woke up, Fitz was gone, presumably to the lab. He had left behind a small box nestled on his pillow.

Jemma propped herself up on one elbow, reaching out for the box. She opened it and blinked when she saw the ring. Tucked into the top was a piece of paper, which she pulled out and carefully unfolded.

 _I bought this ten years ago._

2b.

_“Happy birthday, Jemma. It’s not the same without you here. Say hi to your parents for me, and I’ll see you soon.”_

Jemma’s smile was bittersweet as the video ended. She finally lifted her finger, stopping the playback before it looped again. Seven or eight views were probably enough for one night. Jemma heaved a sigh.

The next day was her birthday, and it was hard to wrap her mind around how much had happened in the last couple of years since that video was recorded. Starting with spending half a year on another planet, of course. And then there was the little matter of falling in love with her best friend – and losing their chance yet again. 

On that note, Jemma tapped a few buttons on her phone, bringing up the picture of her and Will.

If she were entirely honest, she kind of hated him. He saved her life, he gave her hope, he made the whole situation bearable and even fun sometimes, and she supposed she did love him in a way. But he was also the one to blame for all the awkwardness and all the pain she and Fitz were dealing with right now. He was the reason she couldn’t move on and be happy.

No, that wasn’t fair. She was the one who gave up on Fitz. She was the one who left Will behind and ran to save herself. She was the one to blame. 

Asking Fitz to transfer the data files onto her new phone had only added to the discomfort. He knew, of course, that the vast majority of items on there were simply pictures of the planet and recordings of her own thoughts and feelings – mostly about him – and she had given him full access to all of it. She suspected, though, that he was hung up on the one and only picture in there of Will. That he was convinced that was what she really wanted back to cherish. 

Jemma had never even recorded any thoughts or observations about him, never had him speak into the phone to preserve the sound of his voice. Back then, before the phone died, she never dreamed she would have needed something to remember him by. Of _course_ their plan would have worked and of _course_ she and Will would have maintained a lifelong bond after they returned home. Only it didn’t, and they hadn’t, and as much as she mourned him, the only person that was still clinging to her relationship with Will was Fitz. 

Mostly.

Jemma sighed, staring at the phone again. She swiped the tip of her finger down the image, just soft enough not to activate the touch screen. 

“I know – ” she broke off, feeling silly talking to herself, her whisper sounding loud in her otherwise quiet room. “I know you always understood. How I felt about you, and how I felt – feel about him. It wasn’t something we talked about much, but I knew you…respected it. You would have stepped aside, encouraging and wanting me to be happy and live my life. I know you knew that I loved you and wanted the same for you.” Jemma took a deep, unsteady breath, letting it out slowly. “I know you wouldn’t have wanted this, me feeling – paralyzed with guilt and scared to move on and – and _hard_ , closed off, paranoid and angry. You didn’t sacrifice yourself for me for this. It’s my birthday tomorrow, you know? My sincerest wish is to start over, start fresh. Put this last year behind me and look forward to my life – my life with Fitz – with hope. I have to let you go, Will. I’m sorry. I have to let that planet go, and you along with it. But thank you. Thank you so much for everything. I’ll _never_ forget you.”

And with that, Jemma deleted the picture. She sat up on her bed, feeling disoriented. And a little embarrassed when she looked across the room into her mirror and saw her disheveled hair and tear-stained face. She wiped at her eyes quickly and exhaled a rueful little laugh. Certainly not the poise she wanted as she prepared for her 29th year.

Twenty-ninth…

Jemma gasped as a sudden memory struck her. And then she laughed again. Well, that was certainly one way to bring up the subject, she supposed. She moved quickly, rolling off the bed and heading for the door. 

She finally found him in the kitchen, alone thankfully, flipping through a newspaper as he drank a cup of tea. Jemma cleared her throat to get his attention and he looked up with a smile. As always, he was immediately, wholly, selflessly attentive to her with just the slightest hint of guardedness, easily spotted if one knew him well. It was almost unbearable. 

But Jemma forged on.

“I was just thinking about tomorrow,” she blurted rather breathlessly.

“Ah. Big day. Ready for it?”

Jemma knew he was referring to the party the others were planning. It was meant to be a surprise but Fitz had dropped enough hints so she knew to prepare herself for the potentially overwhelming crush of well-wishers. But she chose to use his question to direct the conversation towards her desired topic.

“I suppose ready as I’ll ever be. I have had 10 years to prepare, after all.”

Fitz tilted his head, furrowing his brow inquisitively. Jemma smiled, hoping it masked the fact that she felt as if she were about to vomit. 

“Don’t you remember our deal, Fitz?”

He stared at her for one more moment before turning pale, his mouth slackening. Then he dropped eye contact and pushed off the table, immediately making his way to walk past her.

“That’s not funny, Jemma,” he reprimanded, voice gruff and low. 

She felt frozen, even as she wanted to curl in on herself and sob. Guilt at hurting him vied with the pain of his rejection of even a small walk down memory lane to remind themselves of that long ago day they acknowledged that their relationship would last the test of time but refused to acknowledge – Jemma admitted now – how much they both wanted something more than friendship even back then. It terrified her to think that his response may have been a rejection of _that_ as well, a refusal to even entertain the idea of them salvaging a happy future out of the devastation of the last few years. 

And then, before she even realized what she was doing, she was on the move, chasing after him. 

He almost didn’t answer his door, but Jemma was nothing if not persistent, and the eighth time she knocked on it, he finally swung it open. His expression was a horrifying mix of heartbreak, anger, and a desperate attempt at indifference.

“It wasn’t a joke,” she declared before he could say anything. 

Fitz closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. He leaned against the doorframe, his whole body screaming out his exhaustion. “Jemma – ”

“It wasn’t a joke,” she repeated, softer but no less sincere. “I would never try to deliberately hurt you like that. I just remembered about it and – it made me smile. I wanted to remind you. I know a lot’s changed between us since then but I thought maybe – maybe it could – maybe we – ”

He opened his eyes to stare at her, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck and looking for all the world like he was too afraid to hope.

“It wasn’t a – a binding contract, or anything, Jemma. I don’t want to – there’s no obligation, you know. But I think you know how I…feel about you, so it… _hurts_ to – ” 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Fitz.” When she felt brave enough, Jemma reached forward and grabbed both of his hands with hers. “Not with this, and certainly not in all the other ways I – it’s been such a hard couple years, hasn’t it?”

Fitz nodded glumly. 

“I really think,” Jemma forced on, “I think we need a birthday party tomorrow not only as a celebration but as a way of marking the end of the past and the start of a new future. Together.”

“Jemma, I – ” he broke off to shoot her a distraught look. “I don’t know if I can.”

Jemma pressed her lips together and nodded. “OK. OK, then. Let’s amend our previous deal.”

Fitz narrowed his eyes at her, waiting suspiciously. Jemma inhaled deeply to fortify herself. 

“Let’s agree that – for my 29th birthday – we’ll go out for dinner. Somewhere nice. And the week after that, if we can get a few free hours, we’ll go for a movie. And so on and so on, week by week until we figure this out together.”

Fitz stared at her, then slowly nodded. “Take it slow.”

“For a year,” Jemma countered, feeling amazed at her own bravery. 

“What do you mean?”

“In one year, the amendment will conclude and the original deal will be back on the table for discussion – we’ll need to decide what’s right for us then. Marr – marriage and a little cottage in Perthshire, sticking with S.H.I.E.L.D., or even just…just remaining friends.” 

The longer Fitz stayed quiet, the more worried Jemma became. 

“OK?” she asked.

Fitz took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. “OK.”

For a moment, she fought against the overwhelming urge to kiss him. She settled for hugging him instead, and when his arms came around her in response, she burrowed deeper into his embrace. After a few moments, she felt his dry lips brush against her temple. Jemma hummed in approval. 

The next day, ostensibly to distract her while the others set up for the party, he took her out for dinner at the same restaurant as before. And like before, he rented out the whole place. 

The following weekend, he took her to a movie. 

Two weeks after that, as they scurried around the lab, trying to solve the latest crisis, their hands brushed together whenever they passed, sending little tingles shooting up Jemma’s arm, down her spine, and then splitting to excite both her heart and other parts of her anatomy.

When the world-saving mission was a success due in no small part to their combined scientific genius, he kissed her senseless in a supply closet. 

The next day, he stumbled through his concerns about the consequences of a physical relationship between them. She finally shut him up with a kiss that turned into some very heavy petting that turned into clothes flung across the room that turned into the point of no return. 

A month or so later, she took him on a trip to the Seychelles, and they spent half their time exploring the islands and the other half exploring each other’s bodies. Maybe more like 40-60. 

They continued, taking each new milestone one at a time, talking through their feelings, both good and bad, figuring things out together. And a full year later, on Jemma’s 30th birthday, Fitz slipped a ring on her finger, kissed her quickly, and rested his forehead against hers. Her eyes crossed a bit as she tried to look at his grin, and she could vaguely hear the cheers of their friends and family and the officiant in front of them saying something. But all she could focus on was Fitz.

“Can I tell you something?” he whispered.

“Mm-hmm.”

“I bought that ring eleven years ago.”

Jemma laughed, a tear escaping as she blinked. She tilted her head up to kiss him again.


End file.
